


I'm A Broken Man With Addictive Tendencies

by robin_writes



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Artist Jared, Bottom Jensen, Cop Jared, Dark Jared, Eventual BDSM, Eventual Smut, Jensen is 17, M/M, Prostitute Jensen, Top Jared, Writer Jensen, cigarette smoke aesthetic, jared is 36, pretending to date
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 17:35:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15514998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robin_writes/pseuds/robin_writes
Summary: In Jared’s mind they were a new brand of a tale as old as time; Romeo and Juliet. From two different worlds, destined to be kept apart, and both of them too fucked in the head to survive what they end up doing to each other.Jared is a cop who is a dom and Jensen is an underage prostitute. Jared tries to tuck away his 'dom personality' but you can't hide yourself from yourself.





	I'm A Broken Man With Addictive Tendencies

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Tribulations' by Matt Maeson
> 
> Soundtrack on Spotify https://open.spotify.com/user/bexeastwell/playlist/7pX0CJfJclAPb6HGtBG3di?si=EeCoNQe3SfSO04DDhR0eQw 
> 
> Hope you enjoy

He smelt like cigarette smoke. Lips pink and swollen perched around the cigarette that he drew away from him every so often, small plumes of smoke filling the air when he did.

His hair was streaky, blond highlights that were done badly by someone who wasn’t a professional, that started half an inch from his scalp like his hair had grown out and hadn’t been bleached again for a while.

The kid’s face was spattered with freckles that Jared decided he would very much like to lick and suck and bite at. And his clothes were revealing enough that Jared knew there were other places he’d like to bite.

If Jared still drew, he would draw the kid who stands every night at the mouth of the dark alley opposite Jared’s apartment. But for reasons he refuses to think about, Jared avoids all topics that could circle back to the art degree he dropped out of fifteen years ago. His parents were right, you can’t make a living with art. So Jared became a cop instead. And as much as the instincts developed on the job tell him he should arrest the pretty mouthed boy who sells himself in the alley that faces his bedroom window, Jared can’t.

He tells himself he won’t because it would give the boy a criminal record, voiding any and all chance he has at a future. And it would take away his source of income, possibly leaving the kid starving and homeless. But Jared’s real reason for not sticking the kid in a cell is that he very much enjoys watching him. If he arrested the kid, he would disappear, choose a different street corner to parade himself on. And Jared wouldn’t be able to live knowing he had something so magnificent and he chased it away. So he can’t arrest the kid.

But he also can’t talk to or proposition him. Jared is a firm believer of the universe being a flawed place, and from a distance he can’t see any of the kid’s flaws. He’s perfect in an imperfect world, so Jared needs to keep him that way.

Until the Fates decide they have other plans.

Jared was walking home after a particularly busy shift, exhausted down to the marrow of his bones. His eyelids were heavy, half-closed, as he navigated the streets.

He was wearing his uniform, so despite how tired he was, Jared believed he still had a duty to stop what was unfolding before him.

Three big guys were shoving the kid down the alley, but he didn’t appear to be okay with the sudden change in location. He was screaming out, yelling for them to let go, until one of the men pressed his hand tight across the kid’s mouth, choking off his cries.

Jared stepped down the alley and removed his gun from the holster. “NYPD, show me your hands.” He announced, and everyone went still. Even the kid, who looked like he was about to make a break for it but couldn’t because he was shocked still.

“We weren’t doing anything he didn’t want.” One of the guys, whose hand fell from the kid’s face, said.

“That true?” Jared asked the kid. He looked at the three men and then nodded quickly. Jared supposed he was considering the possibility of being arrested himself. “Okay, well, just find somewhere else. Don’t want to have to arrest you for public indecency.” Jared turned and walked back down the alley. He wasn’t quite sure what possessed him to leave, but he knew that the kid bruised pretty, and desperately wanted to see that again. No matter how fucked up that made him.

He changed quickly, and then settled himself into position at the foot of his beed where he had a perfectly unobstructed view of the alley.

But, the unexpected happened while he watched. The three guys left. And the kid moved back to his spot at the mouth of the alley, pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and then tilted his chin up to look straight at Jared.

Jared wanted to move his head, look away. But he couldn’t. The kid was staring directly at him and he couldn’t move.

The thing he wanted more than anything was to run back outside, shove the kid up against the wall and fuck him until he was ruined for everyone else. Fuck him until he begged Jared for his cock. Until he couldn’t bare to walk around empty.

Jared let out a possessive growl as he felt his dick throb in his flannel pajama pants. He palmed at it, eyes still attached to the kid’s.

They played their game of chicken for a while, until Jared got too tired and pulled down the covers on his bed. When he turned back, the kid was facing the other way, scoping out clients for the night, Jared surmised. And Jared climbed into bed, falling into a dreamless sleep.

 

**Thursday 26th July**

When he woke up, he groaned immediately. Last night he sounded like a prejudiced cop. And then his little show probably scared the kid away. Jared rolled over and yelled some choice words into his pillow.

Don’t meet your idols, they say. Not that the kid is Jared’s idol, but the metaphor applies. You can worship someone from afar but then as soon as you are witness to their flaws or they’re witness to yours, the relationship changes and they can no longer be held upon a pedestal.

There were a few hours until he had to be at the station, and he spent the time mindlessly doing chores and trying to figure out whether speaking to the kid tonight would end up making things better or worse.

He still hadn’t decided by the time his shift started that afternoon.

Chad was sitting at the desk across from Jared’s when Jared walked in. They had been partners for the better part of nine years, and best friends for much longer. And so it didn’t surprise him at all when Chad stood up from his chair and grabbed Jared’s wrist, dragging him into the only room that didn’t have security cameras in.

The extra cameras in the bathrooms and the kitchen had been added a year ago when a random guy off the street came in to make a statement about something he made up, but ended up setting a small chemical bomb off in one of the cubicles. No one was hurt luckily, because the guy was stupid as all hell and used the wrong chemicals in the production of the bomb. But the cameras had been added as a precaution.

The door to the supply closet shut as Chad pressed Jared up against it. “You look like shit Jay.” Chad said after examining Jared closely, making the taller man squirm like a kid.

“Thanks.” He said, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“What happened?” It was jarring to see Chad so worried. He was usually the hedonistic joker who only became serious around his girlfriend’s parents.

“Nothing… it’s nothing.” Jared shook his head, closing his eyes when Chad pressed himself impossibly closer.

“It’s not nothing, Jay.” He whispered into the pulse point at Jared’s neck. Jared’s body relaxed at the familiar tone. It was one that Chad only ever used in the bedroom; the intimate, soothing edge to his words.

Whenever both Jared and Chad were single, they would occasionally find themselves fucking up against a wall or on a couch somewhere. It was good. It allowed them both to blow off steam and never interfered with their friendship or partnership.

“It’s the kid. I think I fucked up Chad.” Jared had told his partner about his possibly illegal (Jared’s not sure if the kid is underage or not, but he wants him anyway), very unhealthy pining for the hooker in the alley after way too many drinks one night.

“Do I need to hack some security cameras? Delete footage?” Jared smiled at how quickly Chad would break the law for him if he needed it.

“No. He was getting jumped by three guys and I stopped it, but I didn’t help him. I didn’t even arrest the guys. Kid was so scared. I think he thought I was gonna ‘rrest him.”

“I love you, but you’re so thick skulled sometimes. Listen to me Jay.” Chad gripped each side of Jared’s face with his hands until they were looking each other directly in the eye. “You cannot pursue this kid and expect to keep your job. Even if he isn’t underage, he is still a prostitute. And you’re a cop. It will go bad, for you, for him, for both of you, for everybody.”

“I hear what you’re saying.” He tried to convey how sincere he was through their eye contact. Chad nodded and stepped backwards.

Jared did understand what Chad was saying, but to him it felt a little less extreme. In Jared’s mind they were a new brand of a tale as old as time; Romeo and Juliet. From two different worlds, destined to be kept apart, and both of them too fucked in the head to survive what they end up doing to each other.

After that, the shift went fairly normally. There were a few intakes that Jared had to process; a grand theft auto, a home invasion and a vandalism. And he spent the rest of his time ignoring Chad’s worried looks.

During the walk home, all Jared could think about was graphite and sketching paper. The musky smell and soft, uneven texture of the paper. He hadn’t thought about drawing in over ten years and hadn’t sat down to draw in fifteen. But, as Jared was walking along the streets lit by moonlight and the occasional street light, his fingers were itching to draw.

There was an art supply store a short detour from his usual journey home that Jared stopped by. The clerk froze at the sight of his uniform, but Jared just smiled, his dimples appearing. “I’m off duty, just wanted to pick up some stuff.” The clerk exhaled softly.

When Jared had first started out, he thought the anxiety he caused people as he walked around in uniform was their guilty consciences. But later he came to learn that in the neighbourhood he lives in, cops have a reputation for arresting first and asking questions later. The people aren’t guilty, they just don’t want to be arrested. That’s something he knows a little about.

Jared picked up a couple of leather bound sketch pads and a packet of pencils, paying quickly before leaving to continue on home.

The kid was loitering at the mouth of the alley when Jared got there. He was staring right at Jared.  The kid was wearing really tight ripped jeans that Jared guessed were less of a fashion statement and more that way because he had grown and they had torn. Jared looked at the kid, at his apartment building and then at the plastic shopping bag in his hand. He inhaled deeply and made a decision.

“Hey kid.” Jared walked up to him. He nodded once but looked jittery, like he was ready to run the other way at any moment. “Relax, I’m not gonna arrest you. Believe it or not, I want to help you. I also wanted to apologise for my severely dick-ish behaviour yesterday. I could’ve helped more but I was tired. Still… it’s no excuse.” Jared was rambling and the kid was looking at him like he was insane. “How much do you make in a night kid?”

“A hundred, maybe two if it’s a real good night.”

“I’ll give you three hundred.”

“Sure, lead the way.” Jensen looked like he was expecting it. Nobody talked to him while he was working who didn’t want him. Unless it was assholes like last night.

Jared led the kid up to his apartment, dropping his keys on the table next to the door, and flicking on the lights. ”Where do you want me?” The kid asked.

“Just take a seat for a minute.” Jared indicated the dining table. “What can I call you? I mean, in my head I’ve just been calling you ‘the kid’.”

“Jensen. My name is Jensen.” He said as he sat down. Jared pulled out a seat and sat facing Jensen.

“And what are you, seventeen, eighteen?”

“Seventeen.”

“Tonight I will give you three hundred dollars if you let me cook you dinner, let me sketch you, and let me give you a place to stay.”

“That’s it? Food, sketching and sleep. No sex?”

“No sex.”

“Sure.” Jensen looked way more enthusiastic than he had earlier.

“There’s… there’s something else.” Jared said nervously.

“What is it?”

“I want to… uh… pretend we’re dating.”

“Oh yeah? No problem.” Jensen smiled like he was expecting something much worse.

“That’s not too weird?” Jared asked self-consciously.

“I’ve heard weirder. And, you probably don’t want to know this, but I’ve done it once or twice before.”

“Good.”

“What should I call you?”

“Jay, Jared.”

“Alright Jay, why don’t you go change before dinner? Get out of your uniform.” Jensen smiled.

Jared stood and walked straight to his bedroom, not turning to look back. Once the door was closed, Jared pulled off his shirt. He replaced his uniform with soft, worn jeans and a casual grey button down.

He strolled out of his bedroom to find Jensen sitting where he left him, but he was talking to someone on the phone. “Yeah, hey Chris I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He hung up and then turned to Jared.

“Chris?” Jared asked with a smile on his face.

“Yeah, my buddy. We’re meant to meet for lunch tomorrow.”

“Right. You got any allergies Sugar?” Jared drawled as he moved to the kitchen and began opening drawers to examine ingredients.

“No, Jay, I don’t.”

“Can I get you a drink?”

“You got beer?”

“You got ID?” Jared asked and Jensen smirked.

“I’ll take a soda.”

“Orange okay?”

“Definitely.”

After he passed Jensen an orange soda, Jared started work on dinner. He had the food for Italian style carbonara and homemade garlic butter slathered on a store-bought french stick. 

While he cooked, Jensen asked him about his day at work. They talked until dinner was ready and then Jared asked Jensen to set the table as he served up. Right before he sat down, Jared replaced Jensen’s empty soda can with a bottle of Corona, much to his delight. “Now don’t you go telling anyone ‘bout this Sugar. I’m still a cop and you’re still underage.” Jared took a seat.

“Of course. I would never.” Jensen smiled, and for the first time it reached his eyes, and then he dug into the pasta.

He really outdid himself this time. Jared was a great cook on his worst days, but he was afraid that not cooking for anybody else for so long would’ve made him a little rusty, but it hadn’t. The meal was the best thing he had eaten in months, and the best thing Jensen had ever eaten period. As he continued to tell Jared through the whole thing, moaning at the taste. It had Jared’s jeans growing tight.

“So sketching… you do that a lot?” Jensen asked as they both finished eating.

“Not in fifteen years.” The air in the room got heavy.

“That’s a real long time. You any good?”

“I used to be.” Jared was retreating back into his own head. It happened all the time a decade ago, but more recently it had been happening less and less. He was becoming detached from his senses and the reality around him as images of Gen’s dead body rolled around in his head, bumping into his defences.

Jensen noticed his withdrawal and raised a worried brow. He stood from his seat, clattering cutlery on the plate and scraping his chair against the floor, trying to make as much noise as he could to try to get Jared to snap out of it. The kid inhaled softly and then straddled Jared in his chair. He placed his lips to the vein in Jared’s neck, breathing calmly against it.

He didn’t realise how tense he had become until all of the tension drained from him when Jared’s hands came to rest on his hips. “You had me worried for a minute there.” Jensen whispered into Jared’s neck.

“Sorry. Bad memories, but I’m fine now.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah,” Jared nodded, his cheek brushing against Jensen’s hair. “promise.”

“Okay.” Jensen moved his head back and stood slowly. “Where do you want me?” He said as he began to take his shirt off, pulling it over his head.

“Hey! Woah, what are you doing?” Jared gripped Jensen’s wrists. The feeling made his dick twitch.

“I thought you’d want me naked. I assumed we were doing the whole ‘draw me like one of your french girls’ thing.”

“Oh.” Jared sounded like he had the air punched out of his lungs. “I hadn’t considered that. I mean, it would be better. But you don’t have to. If it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Hey Jay?”

“Yeah?”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Jensen asked, taking a step forward.

“No.” Back at college, a decade and a half ago, Jared had to take a figure drawing class which included live nude models of both the male and female variety, so he was well versed in seeing and drawing human anatomy.

“Alright then. Grab your pencils Jack.” Jensen started to remove the rest of his clothes. As he was doing that, Jared pulled the sketch pads and pencils from the plastic bag. He followed Jensen to where he was perched on the couch - full Kate Winslet pose and everything.

Jared smiled in amusement. “What? Am I doing it wrong?” Jensen asked self consciously.

“No, Sugar. I just never thought you’d be the type to reference Titanic three times in as many minutes is all.”

“Oh. Okay then.” Jensen relaxed, his lips upturned.

Jared took a deep breath in and touched pencil to paper.

The pair sat in stasis for almost an hour, Jensen breathing steadily but unmoving, and Jared only moving his arm and his head. He drew and he shaded and he perfected. “It’s all done.”

“Yeah? Can I see it?” Jensen asked sleepily, stretching and rubbing his eyes.

“Don’t judge me too harshly. I’m rusty.” Jared said as he made his way over to Jensen and presented the artwork to him.

Jensen inhaled sharply. “Holy crap.” He examined the piece, jaw hanging open. “It’s so good.” Jared breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re real talented Jay… Wow.”

“Thanks. C’mon, you’re tired and I’m tired and it’s almost two. We should go to sleep.” Jared dropped the leather bound sketch pad on the couch Jensen had recently vacated and pushed the kid towards his bedroom. He led him towards the bed and gestured for him to get in. Jensen did wordlessly as Jared unbuttoned his shirt. He pulled off his jeans and then set an alarm for ten on his phone.

Jensen was already asleep when he got into bed. Jared smiled for the gazillionth time that night and closed his eyes, embracing unconsciousness.

 

**Friday 27th July**

There was a heavy weight pressed into Jared’s shoulder as he woke. He laid still, completely frozen as his police instincts kicked in. But he was startled when the weight moved and warm puffs of air hit Jared’s bicep.

He tilted his head slowly, so as not to wake the body. As soon as he saw it was Jensen, he relaxed back into the bed. It was a little after nine so Jared had plenty of time before his shift.

He lasted fifteen minutes of staying in bed, watching Jensen sleep until his fingers were itching to draw again.

Drawing last night felt exhilarating despite the sedentary nature of the activity. He felt like himself for the first time since that night when he was twenty-one and the ground fell out from underneath him. And he itched like a junkie needing a fix to do it again.

Jared silently slipped from the bed, replacing his shoulder from under Jensen’s head with a pillow. He made some coffee and took it along with his sketch pad back to the bedroom. There was a soft armchair stacked with pillows that he pulled closer to the bed, sitting in it and putting his feet up on the mattress. Jared began to draw a sleeping Jensen, lit only by the morning glow and surrounded by Jared’s things.

Jensen started to stir not long after the smell of coffee filled the room. He rolled over, watching as Jared watched him. “Mm. What time is it?” Jensen’s voice was quieter and a little deeper too. Jared checked his phone.

“Nine thirty. You got anywhere to be?”

“Nope. Not for a while.” Jensen stretched out, the covers falling low on his hips, the muscles in his chest pulling taut. When he stopped stretching, something passed over Jensen’s face that Jared couldn’t name. “That’s okay isn’t it? I mean… I can go if you want me to.” He seemed anxious.

“No Sugar, that’s fine.” Jared went back to drawing. “I was thinking, while you were sleeping, that maybe we should make this a weekly thing. Like a date night. It’ll give me an excuse to cook more often.”

“That sounds great.” Jensen was smiling.

“What night is your quietest at work?” Jared asked like they were talking about an office job rather than streetwalking.

“Usually Monday nights, everyone’s way too hungover for me to make anything more than fifty bucks.”

“Date night on a Monday, sounds like a snoozer. But we’ll make do. You mind if I finish my sketch? I would’ve asked, but you were asleep and I couldn’t help myself.”

“Sure, go ahead.” Jensen smirked, putting both hands behind his head, presenting himself. The sheets were only just covering him. Jared continued to draw.

While he was shading, Jared was thinking about what Chad was going to say when he heard about this. He would have a field day. There’s nothing Chad loves more than chewing out Jared for being the stupid one. It rarely happens, but when it does, Chad milks it for all it’s worth.

He embraced the still, calm company that was Jensen. It was soothing having another person in the room in a way that Jared seldom experienced anymore. Chad was far to rambunctious and Jared didn’t hang out with anyone else on a one-on-one basis.

The image was finished, but Jared didn’t want Jensen to get up and leave. He closed the sketch book and placed it on the bed, the pencil resting on the leather cover, and then he turned to Jensen who was staring out of the bedroom window that faced the alley. Jared thought he might be thinking about the other night, or maybe what a pervert Jared is because he watches Jensen sometimes, or maybe he was having an existential crisis. None of this showed on Jensen’s face which gave Jared the impression that Jensen was far too good of an actor to have lived a good life. Those who get that good at pretending only do so because they have to.

“I wanna play a game.” Jared said before he lost his nerve.

“Yeah?” Jensen turned his head to face Jared.

“Yeah. A question for a question. Honesty required. But you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Okay. Sounds fun. You start.” Jensen sat up, pulling the sheets so they covered more of him which Jared thought was a damn shame.

“Why that alley?”

“Loads of reasons. It’s close to home, but far enough so that I’m not recognised too much. It’s lucrative.” Jensen smirked wolfishly. “It’s fairly safe; it’s a dead end so no one can sneak up behind me, but there’s a fire escape that can be pulled down for a quick get away if necessary. And I like the view.” He winked at Jared who blushed.

“I’m surprised you thought it out that much.”

“Not thinking gets people like me hurt or killed. My turn. You’re an amazing artist, so why the big fifteen year break?”

“I was twenty-one, in college, studying art. It was exciting and I was doing exactly what I wanted to be doing. And then one day my best friend, Genevieve, didn’t show up to class. I stopped by her apartment afterwards, but she wasn’t home. And I panicked. She was a complete workaholic, would only miss class if she fell asleep while up late studying. So I started to retrace her steps through the city from when I last saw her the night before.” Jared took a deep breath in. He hadn’t talked about that night with anyone since his parents made him see a psychiatrist in the aftermath.

“I got to the subway she always took. And there was a Jane Doe all over the tracks. They ruled it an accidental death because there were no signs of suicidal precursor behaviour. By the time I got there, she had already been splattered across the cold metal for almost an entire day. Apparently it happened just after I left her the night before. So I took a break from college, moved back in with my parents for a couple of months, sold all my art to make some money. But I didn’t create any more. I couldn’t. I spent weeks locked in my room, trying to figure out how to live without her. And then some more weeks trying to figure out how I could make money without doing the only thing I knew. I was always physically fit and I like to keep people safe. ‘Cop’ is just what was came of the two. I love my job, but I didn’t realise how much I missed drawing until yesterday when my pencil hit the paper. I feel like I’ve been walking around for a decade and a half missing a limb without knowing it, and I’ve got it back now.”

“Wow. I didn’t realise how much of a sore topic that would be. But I’m real glad you told me Jay. It’s your turn. And make it a doozy, I deserve it after that.” Jensen looked a little uncomfortable, but Jared surmised it was down to the nature of his next question rather than how much he had, somewhat unintentionally, revealed about himself.

“How exactly did a seventeen year old kid end up on the streets selling himself?”

“That’s a cliched question Jared, but alright. You can figure out a better question next. I’m gay. Surprise.” He said it with such an expression on his face that Jared wouldn’t have been surprised to see him pull out a party popper and shoot confetti over their heads sarcastically. “My folks weren’t real appreciative of that. So when I came out to them two years ago, they kicked me out. I went to stay with my buddy Chris who lived in an apartment with his junkie mum and his three year old half-brother. I kept going to school until last year when his mum got busted and I offered to find a job so we could keep the apartment. No one would hire a sixteen year old kid who’s only discernible skills were his pretty face and how he’s a mediocre writer. I met a few girls from our building that said I would be great at streetwalking with them, so I knocked on their door and got them to show me the ropes. Not the actual ropes, but where’s safe to hang out, how to avoid cops,” His lips upturned. “rules to follow and how to pick Johns that aren’t likely to cut your throat and steal your wallet.”

“Wow.” Jared said, feeling as speechless as Jensen had after his own story.

“Yeah.”

“Mediocre writer huh?” He was smiling again.

“That your question?”

“No. It’s your turn.”

“Right. Which decade came out with the best music?”

“The sixties by far.”

“Wrong.” Jensen was smiling almost as wide as Jared now which was a feat.

“What are you talking about? The sixties starred the Beach Boys, the Beatles, Aretha Franklin, Ray Charles and Frankie Valli, all the greats.”

“The eighties man. That’s where it was at. Mullet rock at it’s finest. Guns N’ Roses, Def Leppard, AC/DC, Zeppelin.”

“Agree to disagree then.”

“Yeah okay.” Jensen said.

“Tell me something you wrote. Like a line or a plot. Just anything you wrote that means something to you.”

“You gotta give me a minute to think about it though.” He nodded.

“Of course, I’m gonna grab another coffee, want one?”

“Yeah.” Jensen nodded as Jared took his mug to the kitchen.

When Jared came back in, he passed Jensen a coffee and then sat back in the armchair and waited patiently.

“It’s a novel I’m working on.” He coughed after a few moments and then stared right into Jared’s eyes. “The painted man’s heart beat a fraction slower than every other persons’ in the world, which was odd because he was in a painting and so his heart shouldn’t beat at all. But as Harriet watched the canvas he lived upon, he couldn’t help but think that his heart was beating for her.” Jensen took a mouthful of the coffee, avoiding Jared’s eyes. “It’s unedited and unfinished, but that’s the opening.”

“I think it’s phenomenal.” Jared was amazed. He was expecting an action or a sci-fi novel, but an abstract love story… that was no where near what he expected. “What’s the plot? What’s the meaning? What should I infer from it? What should I learn?” In his excitement, Jared forgot to breathe between the questions.

“It’s what it sounds like; a man in a painting falls in love with a woman who visits the gallery his painting is displayed in. Each time she visits, he becomes a little more human. He starts to be able to breathe in his painting, to talk, to move around some. But then a private collector buys it and he’s whisked away to stare at a blank wall for days with no company. By this time though, the painted man is strong enough that even just thinking about Harriet continues to turn him human, just slower. He climbs out of his frame looking semi-normal. When he finds Harriet, she has already gotten married and he realises that even though his love for her was strong enough to turn a painting into a man, she never wanted the man, only appreciating the painting. He figured that the small amount of joy she got from the painting was better than her rejection of him as a man, so he returned to the painting after leaving it in her house as a wedding present. The painted man is forced to watch a lifetime of the woman he loves with another guy because he sees it as being better than losing her forever. The meaning, I guess, is that emotions are better than no emotions. Feeling a little bit good and a whole lot bad is better than feeling nothing. It’s the feelings that make us human. Being numb to everything is no way to live.”

“I can’t believe this. You sure you’re seventeen?” Jared asked and Jensen nodded. “God. You’re like F. Scott Fitzgerald and Albert Camus had a love child. I’m not convinced you aren’t an alien, kid.” Jared stood, placing his coffee carefully onto the bedside table, and then dropped onto the bed dramatically.

He stared at the ceiling for a really long time, soaking in Jensen’s words. Out of nowhere he started laughing. “Fuck kid, you gotta stop selling your body and start selling your words. It won’t be as profitable but damn, you’ll feel like you have a purpose.” The pair laid in silence for another few minutes until Jensen turned to face Jared.

“That was a way better question.” He said softly.

Jared thought about what he said for a minute and realised of course it was a better question. Jared’s question about Jensen being a prostitute labelled him, treating him as nothing but a streetwalker. But the question about what he writes, it ignored labels or jobs. It asked what was in Jensen’s soul. And Jared was hit again by how incredible Jensen’s soul is.

“What time are you meeting Chris?” Jared asked after a long time.

“Twelve. But I gotta buy groceries first.”

“You want a shower, breakfast before you go?” Jared was trying to think of excuses to keep Jensen around, but he knew that their time was dwindling.

“Sorry. It’s already way too late. I’ve got to go, but first I need to find the motivation. You have a super comfy bed Jay.” Jensen groaned into the pillow and then climbed out of bed. Jared admired his nakedness as he left the room to find his clothes. “What time do you want me to come by on Monday?” Jensen called through the door as he pulled on his jeans.

Jared grabbed his wallet and took out three hundred dollars which he handed to Jensen. “Eight?”

“Sure. Eight’s good.” Jensen took the money. He walked to the door, but before he left, he turned around to face Jared. “Y’know, you’re not bad… for a cop.” He smirked as Jared smiled. Jensen left.


End file.
